


from the ragged homes

by magpirate



Series: what remains when the war is won? [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Steve Rogers, Sequel, Violence, babying, can't tag some other things without spoilers, reunion scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpirate/pseuds/magpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just wish I knew what he was doing." Stella sighs, looking to Natasha's face. "If Hydra had him, we'd have found a trace of him by now, wouldn't we? We've been to hundreds of bases and destroyed just as many. If he's still out there, he's making a serious effort to not be found." She keeps her voice quiet, intending to let Joanna sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from the ragged homes

**Author's Note:**

> i promised there was a sequel. if you haven't read part one, [you can find it right here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2749982/chapters/6164771)!! may or may not be necessary to read that first, but i'd always love it if you did.

The dance hall is lively, she'll give it that.

Stella can't quite remember when she got here, but the electricity in the air has set her heart racing. The music is loud, the band playing like they're challenging a storm. The cymbals crash together-- _gunfire_ \-- and the Captain feels adrenaline pulsing through her entire body. She is unarmed, dressed in her formal uniform. The fabric is the old and scratchy sort she's used to, and she recognizes this hall. Cigarette smoke fills the air-- _gas and discharge_ \-- and she's been here before, she's been here before. The woman hears her shoes against the floor, a few in step with the dancers -- _soldiers in a line_ \-- and making a rhythm that goes well with the drumbeat under the cheery tune she doesn't have a name for.

She retreats from the dance floor almost warily, skittish and overwhelmed. She's been here before. She's been here alone before. A few feet away from her, she sees a man drive his fist into another man's face-- _a harsh german voice spitting words she half understands_ \-- and watches their dates pull them apart. Stella steps back, stumbles back, and feels strong hands place themselves on her waist.

"What's the matter, doll?" A familiar voice whispers in her ear. Everything about it tells her to relax, but she can't. Her heart races as she leans back against Bucky Barnes, trying to close her eyes, trying not to hear the cacophony of sound that crashes into her like relentless waves on a shore. "War's over. I thought we were supposed to be celebrating."

"I- I know, Buck, but this ain't right, this-"

"Ain't right?"

Bucky's hands around her waist seem to put them in a bubble of silence as he grips tighter onto her. His body is pressed against her back, his hands are warm. His breath is soft against her ear. She feels the slight scratch of stubble against her sensitive skin, and the soothing weight of his sturdy body when she presses back against him. The sounds of the dance hall fade away as they sway together, as his hand goes to her. He is a rock in the storm, a comfort in the noise. But Stella can't focus. This isn't right. Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is very wrong.

She turns her head and sees an older man slumped in a chair with a woman leaning over him, red wine spilled on a white shirt-- _blood seeping from a gunshot wound_ \-- and Stella sees the dancers again, sees a woman leap into her partner's arms-- _and sees her close her hands around his throat_ \--

Finally, some part of her manages to shut her eyes.

"This is wrong." Stella whispers it, and even that doesn't seem to pierce the blanket of silence that has settled over her and her husband. He still sways, guiding her in his steps the way he always did. His arms wrap around her, delicate and encircling, and Stella is reminded in the deepest part of her mind of a cage. Her eyes open. He takes her by the hand and they move together, they dance. They dance.

He comes at her like a beast. They dance. His hands collide with hers, she stops a knife from entering her gut. They dance. His fingers ghost around her throat, brush against her jugular, she jabs her fist into his solar plexus and he stumbles back. They dance. Bucky looms nearer to her again, takes her by the waist, by the hand. He pulls her to him. A gun grazes her hip. A knife wanders past her wrist. Bucky's lips trail over hers, just too far away for her to kiss him, just close enough to feel the stubble on his jaw. His breath is warm. In the haze of silence, she can hear his heartbeat. They move together, they sway, they dance.

Bucky's formal uniform matches hers, though hers is more decorated. The green eyes that stare back at her are empty and void, dark eyes that tell her nothing. His long hair hangs in his face, the stubble on his jaw leaving red marks on her skin. The hand that grips her hip holds tighter. She feels metal bruising her flesh. His face moves nearer to hers, Stella feels a knife against her abdomen as their lips meet.

A child's wail breaks through the silence, and the vision shatters around her like shards of glass.

Stella lifts her head from the back of the couch, dazed and bleary. Joanna's scream is one that has been too frequent recently, the wail of fright that Stella feels guilty for every time she hears it. The Captain wipes her mouth and picks herself up, exhaustion settling into every part of her as she stumbles her way down the hallway to push open the door to Joanna's bedroom. Her daughter sniffles and whimpers, weeps and wails, and Stella leans over the cradle to pick up the toddler without a word.

"M-Mama..." Joanna whimpers, clutching onto Stella's clothing. The room has been painted a cheery yellow since Natasha moved out and Joanna moved in, and little stars hang from the ceiling. "Mama, there was- monsters." The little girl hiccups as Stella turns on the lamp, illuminating the walls. The woman takes a seat in the rocking chair across the room from the cradle, placing her daughter on her lap. "Metal monsters."

"The monsters are all gone, baby girl." She says as soothingly as she can, keeping Joanna against her. "We beat them up, they went away. They won't come back." Stella places her hand on the back of her daughter's head, feeling the way Joanna's tiny hands fist in her shirt, the little girl's sniffling whimpers. "I promise, baby. They're gone." She closes her eyes and squeezes the child a little bit tighter, giving a slow exhale.

Ultron had managed permanence, in the end. A crater where Sokovia used to be, and a nightmare root in the mind of Captain America's daughter. Those few days had been a trainwreck from start to finish, and as Stella cradles Joanna tighter to her chest, she thinks in silence of how close she had come to never seeing her daughter's face again. She opens her eyes as Joanna's whimpers and sniffles begin to fade, glancing at the clock on the little stand that holds toys and dolls and markers. 5 am. Too late to go to sleep again, she decides, and that dream of the dance hall has been persistent for too long.

The Captain stands up, still holding Joanna close to her chest as she approaches the cradle again. Delicately, she lays her daughter back down, pulling the soft and worn blanket over her to tuck her in. Stella leans over to press a gentle kiss to Joanna's forehead, closing her eyes and letting herself linger there for a long moment. Visions of her husband have been persistent for over a year. Moreso than usual, after Wanda's little daydream stunt. But her mind wanders to him regardless.

A year without him, and knowing he wasn't dead. A year of running after ghosts, a year of following dead lead after dead lead and getting nothing for it but blood on her boots and a daughter who was afraid she was never coming home. Stella steps back from the cradle, turns the lamp light off, and moves as quietly as she can to close the door. That's why she'd had to give up. She needed to find Bucky, yes, but Joanna was depending on her. Joanna couldn't be without her for long, and those long trips just weren't good for her girl. There were still leads, she'd been told. Cold leads. Not a sign of him.

Stella puts a hand through her hair as she wanders to the kitchen, glancing out over the city. It's still dark out, but this is New York, and the city's awake before even she is. Her heart twists as she thinks of him again, wondering just why he's vanished. Some part of her was beginning to think that perhaps he'd been recaptured, or killed. Some part of her was scared that the man she saw hadn't been her husband in the first place, a delusion like the vision she'd used to get through her depression when she was pregnant. She'd dreamed him up. He seemed like it, now. A ghost.

She exhales slowly, rolls her shoulders, and turns towards the coffeemaker. Pressing a few buttons, she sets on a pot of coffee. She can't afford to linger on those thoughts. She can't let herself fall back into that dark place, can't afford to let herself crumble. Joanna needs you, she reminds herself. Whether or not Bucky comes home, she can't live without you. The smell of brewed coffee begins to fill the air around her, and Stella takes a deep breath. She wipes the last of the sleep from her eyes, pushes herself to wake up a little more, and hovers over the coffeepot until it's full.

It isn't until she's poured her coffee (black, with only a little bit of sugar) and sat down on the couch to stare out the window that there comes a knock at the elevator door. She glances over in time to see red hair and red lipstick come waltzing through her door, and she manages a tired smile as Natasha Romanoff gives her a wave and heads right to the kitchen.

"Morning, Stella." The Widow drawls, pouring herself a coffee into the mug that Stella has designated as Nat's since the first time she used it. "Sorry to come by so early. Just got home from that recovery mission in Moscow." She looks tired, but still seems to embody perfection itself. Natasha pours cream and sugar both in her coffee, gives Stella's alcohol cabinet a cursory glance, then moves to join her on the couch. Instead of sitting across from her, however, Nat places herself directly beside the Captain, giving her a lazy smile.

"I was wondering how that was going." Stella answers, taking a sip of the bitter liquid and letting it warm her up from the inside out. Having Natasha nearby is a relief in all sorts, and after Sokovia... Maybe something else. "You were gone for a while."

"I was looking into some other things for you." Natasha says with a shrug, pulling her legs up beside her. Her expression becomes mildly apologetic. "Still no fresh leads. Empty Hydra bases galore, though. The last one we found was a suitable setting for a horror game with all the blood and bodies, but still no trace of him."

Stella's stomach twists.

"Thanks anyway, Nat." She answers, keeping her tone a bit more lighthearted.

"It's no trouble." Natasha waves a dismissive hand. "Gotta help you out, after all."

Sokovia had been something different for the both of them. Had opened up something different in both of them, in a way. They worked together seamlessly after the events at the Triskelion, and Stella had found herself easing closer and closer to Natasha, both in her grief and in her search for company. Natasha was her best friend, certainly- and by now, maybe a little more than that. Stella remembers, perhaps not exactly fondly, how the Scarlet Witch had pulled them both apart when they met. She remembers Natasha taking her by the hand and leading her to bed, and remembers finally letting herself weep with her face pressed into Natasha's shoulder. They'd slept curled together those few nights at Clint's farm, and every moment she wasn't waking up alone was the relief of the god damned century.

She thinks of the kiss they'd shared nearly a year ago, disguise or not, and unconsciously licks her lips.

"I just wish I knew what he was doing." Stella sighs, looking to Natasha's face. "If Hydra had him, we'd have found a trace of him by now, wouldn't we? We've been to hundreds of bases and destroyed just as many. If he's still out there, he's making a serious effort to not be found." She keeps her voice quiet, intending to let Joanna sleep.

"Chances are, that's exactly what it is." The Widow answers, swirling the liquid in her coffee cup. "He doesn't want you to find him yet. But it's been nearly a year, Stella. For all you know, he could come walking up to your front door in half an hour. I know what it's like inside Hydra, when people are in your head." Natasha looks down, a ghost of something crossing her features. "Realizing what's happened is only the first part. Getting past it- Getting past it takes a long time. If I know anything about what's happened to him, I'd bet anything that he doesn't want to see you until he knows how to work through things himself." Without thinking, Stella very gently takes Natasha's hand in her own.

For a long time, silence lingers between the two women. Stella drains her coffee cup, watches Natasha nurse hers. The sun rises through the windows, the tower comes to life.

\--------------------------------

"Alright, Jo-ann." Stella watches her daughter pulling her shirt on, smiling down at the little girl with an expression of clear fondness. "What's today's plan?" Joanna looks up at her and beams, her pink cheeks spreading when she smiles up at her mother.

"Playground!" She insists, and Stella gives a slight shake of her head, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorway. It's one of those rare days where she doesn't have to concern herself with a mission or any sort of extra duties. It's a day for her to spend time with Joanna and busy herself with things beyond trying to find her husband. Bucky will reveal himself when he's ready. She keeps telling herself that, at least.

"Shopping first, baby girl. We gotta go pick out some new toys for you, and then Mama has to go out with Natasha tonight." Stella moves over to crouch and help Joanna tie her shoes, and the child smiles brightly, grabbing onto her mother's blonde hair in the same way she always has, even as an infant.

Joanna nods solemnly and holds onto her mother, and Stella takes the opportunity to gather her daughter up into her arms as she had this morning, supporting her bum and letting Joanna cuddle into her chest. It's relaxing, really, to be so close to her girl. It's damn calming to feel her toddler curling into her body like it's the safest place she could ever be. The woman tilts her head to press a kiss to Joanna's forehead, heading out to the living room to pick up her keys and her phone.

"You wanted more dinosaurs, right?" She says as she tucks her keys into her back pocket after locking the door to her apartment, and Joanna rests her head on Stella's shoulder after an excited little nod.

They haven't been spending as much time together as Stella would've liked. It had been a long trip trying to find Bucky through all those dead ends and her time had been too occupied with ensuring Joanna was safe than being with her. After that, it had been dealing with Ultron and Sokovia after a short break to settle back into the tower. She was watching her little girl learn how to speak in full sentences, and also spending plenty of time watching her daughter sleep very restlessly.

It was strange, though. She was seeing more and more of Bucky in her little girl.

Joanna had her father's eyes and her father's smile, her father's determined grimace etched into her mother's features. She had Bucky's chin and Bucky's cheeks and even at a young age, there was truly no doubt as to who her father is. The similarities didn't stop at apperance, either; she spoke with her father's occasional grumble, and her thoughtful expressions and careful words reminded Stella of how Bucky would speak when he was positive something was a bad idea.

Stella thinks of this almost distantly as she loads Joanna into her carseat. This little girl has never met her father, and yet Stella sees so many similarities between her husband and her daughter. This little girl knows her father through stories and pictures. She slides into the driver's side seat, tucking one of Joanna's teething rings into the girl's carseat beside her. It's an echo of the man she fell in love with. An echo, and nothing more, but it's-- It's a comfort that Stella hardly has a name for.

"Alright, Joanna." She looks down to her daughter as she starts the car. Joanna smiles brightly up at her. "Shopping, lunch, playground."

The trip to the store is an easy one. Buying Joanna a few new clothes that she won't grow out of too quickly, getting her a few more toys to add to the growing collection in the little girl's bedroom, stocking up the cabinets in the house a little bit more to stop relying so heavily on takeout. Stella picks herself up a novel (some mystery about a man's missing wife) and takes Joanna to the playground in the park.

Joanna throws herself in without any hesitation whatsoever. She's made a few friends at her daycare for when Stella is off at work or otherwise busy, and a few of them are here today. The Captain greets a few other parents with a slight smile, then sits down on a bench to watch the kids play. The playground itself is a relatively relaxed sort of environment, one closer to a richer neighborhood that means most people around here are keeping a close eye on the kids whether or not they're theirs.

It's about twenty minutes of Stella watching the children play when another woman opts to sit on the bench beside her. The Captain glances towards this stranger, a golden eyed woman with dark brown hair who gives her a cursory nod before looking forward again.

"I don't wish to interrupt you, Captain." The woman's voice is gentle, though her Russian accent is very thick. "You only looked like you could use some company." This woman's features are familiar, Stella notes, in a way that she's not quite sure of. Her face is sharp and angular, all high cheekbones and sharp jawline. The accent isn't all that surprising, really; when working in SHIELD, she'd gotten used to those sort of things. Her brown hair is loose, pinned back out of her face with a few silver pins and otherwise framing her angular face. She is a woman who could be considered beautiful, if there were not some sort of darkness in those golden eyes.

"It's... It's fine. Do I know you?" Stella's question is almost careful. The stranger doesn't look at her.

"My name is Yelena Rostova." She smiles lightly, the slightest of turns at the corners of her lips. "You have met my fiance. Elizabeth Gallagher. She had the pleasure of delivering little Joanna. I have very little doubt that you haven't heard my name before, too, as I worked with SHIELD for a time."

The name rings a bell. Stella thinks back to her first appointment with Elizabeth when she was pregnant, and the shy mention of a woman named Yelena to be called when Elizabeth wasn't reachable. A business card that she'd tossed out at some point. The blonde looks forward after a moment's pause, finding Joanna on the playground and swallowing around the lump in her throat.

"... Stella Barnes." She says, somewhat slowly. "Liz might have mentioned you."

"Lizbeth and I are very close. Doctors of mind and body, you see." Yelena chuckles. The noise is light and nearly musical, almost intentionally soothing in a way that Stella finds unsettling.

"You worked with SHIELD?"

"Yes, I did. For many years, actually. I was a therapist for those in SHIELD who had a hard time in their work environment." She gives a slight nod, those golden eyes flickering to Stella for a moment. Stella feels a shiver move down her spine. "I assisted with ensuring people were not harming themselves in their line of work, and gave them opportunities to improve on themselves or recommended where they be moved in the event of a job change being necessary." The Russian woman shrugs. "After SHIELD's fall, I find myself in the same line of work, simply for a different company." Her smile is almost passive.

Stella's not sure what to think. She stays quiet, feeling Yelena's eyes drift over her as she focuses her gaze on Joanna instead of the other woman on the bench. Her little girl is playing with her newest dinosaur toy. Stella watches as Joanna smashes the white scaled thing into the sand, and the friend she's made piles dirt on top of it.

"Your daughter is very beautiful, Miss Barnes." Yelena's voice sounds almost far away, now. Stella feels her shoulders relaxing, her anxiety melting out of her body. "How old is she?"

"Four." Stella answers, automatically. "She'll be five in February."

"And her father? Where is he?" The question is absentminded, but there's some sort of purpose behind it. Stella feels like her mouth is full of cotton.

"He's... Somewhere. Haven't seen him in a long time. Not since DC." It's too simple to say it. It comes out so easily. She shouldn't be saying that to a stranger, and yet-- And yet. It's so easy to speak to this woman. This Yelena Rostova. It's so easy to relax in her presence. So easy to share. It doesn't seem to be any trouble at all. What had she said she'd done, again? A SHIELD therapist? SHIELD analyst? A helper. A friend. What?

"That's a shame. A father should be with his child, after all. A beautiful little girl like yours deserves everything she can learn from him, doesn't she?" Yelena's voice is smooth and easy, almost like a subtle purr. Stella finds herself nodding, mumbling out an easy agreement in response instead of forming any real words. The stranger gives a little hum, and then a steady sigh. "If only there were more I could do to help you, Captain. I have no doubt that her father wants to be with his little girl. I am sure he'd be glad to show her plenty of things, too."

The two women sit in silence. Stella is caught off guard by how relaxed she feels. She's settled into some form of comfortable daze, as if a cloud has crept into her head. Some part of her knows that she should not be so relaxed, that she should be ready to pick a fight-- and yet, she can't. Her bones feel like lead weights, her body utterly loose and pliant as she sits back against the bench. Her eyes stay on Joanna. Yelena says something else, and Stella feels her mouth form words in response, but she couldn't for the life of her repeat back what they were.

She doesn't know how much time passes before this Yelena Rostova speaks again.

"My fiance and I are thinking of having a child of our own." Yelena clicks her tongue. "We would be very lucky if she was half as lovely as little Joanna. Do say hello to her for us." The woman smiles. There's the rustling of fabric as she stands, and Stella feels herself looking up to Yelena, her eyes moving slowly, like she was half asleep. Those golden eyes seem to bore into her. The Russian tilts her head, then gives a slight sigh, and smiles brightly. "It was very nice to meet you, Miss Barnes. Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day."

And as quickly as she came, Yelena is gone. Stella sits there on the bench as if she's in a daze, lost in the voice and those golden gaze, confusion settling like a thick blanket over her shoulders. The sounds of children playing around her echo in the distance like she's inside a tunnel, her ears ringing in a high-pitched sound. She's reminded of her dream, of the blanket of silence that being in her husband's presence had brought her. Her eyes slide closed.

She imagines him, in the wind on this bench with the sound of children at play surrounding her. It's not unlike how it had been while she was pregnant, hallucinating her husband's presence to keep herself going; she imagines she can feel strong fingers on the back of her hand, soft lips against her temple. Steel fingers running through her hair. Bucky. Bucky. Where are you? Where have you gone? Yelena's words seem to melt away from her, and by the time she opens her eyes again, Stella's almost forgotten that the woman was even there.

The fog begins to clear. The Captain opens her eyes, blinking away the distance and the fog of silence in time to see Joanna lifting up her sand-covered dinosaur and wave at her mother. It takes Stella a moment to remember how to smile back as the world settles itself back into place.

\--------------------------------

"I'm getting real tired of Avengers business interrupting my days out with my daughter." Stella grumbles, picking metal shrapnel out of her uniform. Someone reprogramming stray Ultron Sentries were the last thing anyone needed, and yet it seemed that after Sokovia there were plenty of people seeking to get ahold of scrap metal to reform it to their own nefarious purposes. Of course, these people popped up every other weekend, and were crushed down just as quickly as soon as the Avengers caught wind of them.

This mission had been the usual sort; search, destroy, get someone locked up in prison for being irresponsible with things that didn't belong to them. Stella hadn't had time to get a babysitter this time, but it was late anyway-- She'd been able to put Joanna to bed and simply ask Jarvis to shut down the floor to make sure nobody else could get in. The tower was the safest place for her and her daughter to be living, anyway, and Stella had no doubt that coming home this late wouldn't be a problem at all.

They're on the Quinjet, on their way back to the tower after the night mission. Natasha and Stella are sitting opposite eachother, the rest of the Avengers milling about around them. Stella's tired. She's most looking forward to simply settling down in bed with her novel (the missing wife's diary entries were fascinating) and planning another day out with her daughter the following morning. The Tower is visible in the distance, the bright A watching over Manhattan even as the city settles down for the evening.

"C'mon Cap, It's not that bad." Tony snorts from the cockpit. "The kid's what, six? Almost time for boarding school." The sarcasm that coats his tone is palpable, and Natasha and Stella share a glance before Nat rolls her eyes.

"Little Joanna is but a babe, Stark." Thor interjects, nodding somewhat sagely. "It is only right that her mother be concerned for her, warrior as she is." He offers Stella a gentle smile. "Perhaps you should bring her along next time, so she may see her mother's bravery in person!"

"Thank you, Thor, but I think I'll pass." Stella chuckles lightly. The team damn well dotes on Joanna. They all show it in different ways; Thor leaves the occasional treat and offers to babysit when Stella can't be present, Tony has filled her room with all sorts of gadgets (including a night light that shows the night sky when turned on), Natasha's kept the kid clothed and pampered and provided plenty of help in storytelling. Bruce and Clint are a bit less involved, but Clint has never failed to make Jo laugh, and Bruce has a gentle hand when it comes to soothing a crying child.

It's a relief. Tony's disgust at finding Stella pregnant had passed, and the team had stopped doubting her honesty in claiming the father as James Barnes when he'd reappeared as the Winter Soldier. They accepted her, as they should, and gave her support. Stella was more than grateful for this, considering the stress that came along with being a single mother on top of being an Avenger. They functioned as a family unit, with Joanna acting as a unifier from her place in the corner during Avengers meetings. They called Stella by her married name as she'd requested, and despite Tony's distaste when it came to the Winter Soldier, he'd done what he could to help her through searching Hydra bases.

The Quinjet lands in the hangar near the roof, and the group unloads. Much to their surprise, the area is dead silent. No lights have come on, no greeting comes from Jarvis. Automatically, Tony's put his helmet back on. Stella's lifted her shield, Thor's grabbed his hammer from his belt, and Natasha's produced both her pistols.

"Stark. Life signs?" Stella lapses back into her tone of voice used for being Captain America, clenching her jaw slightly.

"I'm not picking up anything, Captain. Just Joanna on your floor, that's it. Jarvis? Is the power down?"

They wait in silence, expecting an answer that doesn't come. Still, the air of tension hasn't faded, and the group moves forward to the elevators carefully.

"Check the rest of the floors." Stella's order is a bit breathless. Her heart is pounding in her chest. Her daughter. Is her daughter safe? Who's done this? "I'm going for Joanna. Get the lights back on." She moves instead to the stairs, taking them four at a time as she runs to her floor. Getting to the extra hallway takes next to no time at all, and it's even less time before Stella's moving carefully through the door on her floor and into her entry way, shield raised. The lights aren't off in her floor. No, her usual evening lights are on; the light above the doorway illuminating the entry way is on, and Stella can see a beam of light coming from the living room that tells her the light's on.

She lifts a hand to her comm system.

"Just on my floor. Approaching now, I'll call in if I need help--"

"No, no, Daddy, like this!"

Joanna's voice cuts through her like a knife. What is she doing out of bed? And-- is it?

Stella lowers her shield, feeling her hands shaking as she approaches quite warily. Her heart pounds in her chest. It can't be him. He's been gone for a year, leaving behind nothing but bloody bodies and empty Hydra bases. Why would he be here, why now? Natasha's words from this morning ring in her ears as she presses herself to the wall beside the corner, looking down at the light coming from the doorway. Joanna's giving a happy squeal, and Stella recognizes the sound of a plastic dinosaur crashing into wooden blocks, followed by a steady mechanical whir and the soft sound of the wooden blocks being stacked up again. She gives a shaky breath, and moves aside to look into the living room.

The floor lamp is the source of light. It reflects off the wall of windows that displays the city and illuminates the room just perfectly. For Stella, it comes in snapshots. Joanna on the floor on her favorite blue blanket, clutching onto her pale scaled plastic dinosaur and beaming at the man sitting hunched over opposite her. Bucky Barnes, sitting on the blanket beside the toddler, wooden blocks held delicately in his whirring metal fingers as he lifts it to place it on top of the little tower that Joanna always preferred to make. He shifts, lifts his head, and he and Stella lock eyes.

She imagines her heart stops. She imagines he smiles, she imagines Joanna screaming instead of laughing. She imagines her bare feet on concrete in front of a church as she kisses her husband for the first time, and imagines a metal fist closed around her throat.

"Bucky?" Her voice is hoarse.

"Stella." He answers her, his voice rusty from disuse. He puts the block down on the tower, looks towards Joanna, and moves to stand up. He lists slightly to the left where Stella knows metal is welded into flesh and all the inner workings that came with it. His face is etched into an expression of apprehension, his jaw decorated with stubble and his long hair still hanging in his face. His green eyes are soft and wary, and Stella can tell he doesn't know what to expect. She hasn't moved, rooted to the spot and left only staring at him with her lips parted, her eyes burning with unshed tears as her shield falls to the ground with a resounding clang.

"Cap?" Tony's voice rings in the comm system. "Cap, come in, everything alright?" Stella lifts a shaking hand to her comm, not looking away from Joanna.

"Everything's fine." She says raggedly into it, watching Bucky's eyes. "Everything-- Everything's fine, Joanna's just fine. Power's on alright here, must've been an emergency shut down." With that, she turns the comm off and more or less tosses it away, her chest feeling tight. She and Bucky simply watch eachother; her sinuses burn, and he looks at her with an expression akin to a kicked puppy.

"Mama!" Joanna squeals, breaking the aching silence. "Mama, Daddy came home! Daddy came home like you were waitin' for! He's playin' with me!" She smiles brightly, waving her little plastic dinosaur, and Stella tears her eyes away from Bucky in order to look at her. He does the same, looking down to their daughter with the smallest of smiles curling his features.

"Yeah, baby girl." Stella says hoarsely, giving Joanna a weak smile. "He- He did. But it's... It's way past your bedtime, baby, what are you doing awake?"

"Daddy came to see me!" The little one says it brightly, standing on wobbly legs. She steps over to hug Bucky's leg tight, and the man known as the Winter Soldier puts his flesh hand on top of her head, still looking down to their daughter. "He woke me up on 'ccident, he said, but I told him we could play 'til Mama came home."

"Daddy should have let you sleep." Stella says with a broken laugh, shaking her head and looking away from Joanna to Bucky. He remains silent, meeting her eyes with such hesitance. "Come here, baby, it's time for bed." The Captain kneels.

Joanna looks between them, clearly not understanding the gravity of the moment. She tugs on Bucky's pant leg until he crouches, and she smiles brightly at him.

"Do it 'gain, Daddy." She requests, and Bucky obliges. He shifts forward, pressing a soft kiss to the girl's forehead, and Joanna gives a happy squeal as she stands on tiptoe to kiss him back before swiveling on her toes and more or less jumping into Stella's arms. He smiles as he watches them both, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Stay here, Bucky." She mumbles it to him, cradling Joanna in her arms. "I've gotta put her to bed. And we have to talk."

"M'not going anywhere, Stella." He rasps back to to her. Stella feels a single tear escape, and she lifts her hand quickly to wipe it away before Joanna notices.

She moves down the hallway slowly, feeling Joanna clinging to her uniform as the girl rests her head on her mother's shoulder. This is a dream, she tells herself. It can't be real. Why would Bucky have come back, now? He's been running from her for a year. He's been evading so much as a photograph for the same amount of time, staying away from her and all others as if his life depended on it. He's been on a mission for revenge, slaughtering Hydra agents near and far. Stella had made a list; every single important assassination that had happened in the past year had been Hydra agents crossed off by the same man. The same single man had ripped apart base after base, wiped hard drives and freed experiments. The same one man army had started cutting off Hydra's heads en masse, their own weapon turned against them.

The same one man who she had just found sitting in her living room, stacking little wooden blocks for her daughter to knock over.

It almost seems surreal. Stella moves almost mechanically into Joanna's room, turning on the light before putting the girl down. She's still in her pajamas, at least, and she looks considerably more tired than she had when Stella had put her to bed earlier. She smiles brightly at her mother anyway, and Stella smiles back as Joanna settles down against her pillows, drawing up the blanket to tuck her in. The girl clutches onto her favorite new dinosaur, resting back comfortably.

"Is Daddy gonna stay?" Her question is soft and curious, clear green eyes looking up at Stella expectantly as the woman moves over to turn on the night light beside the cradle. She hesitates in answering her daughter, looking down to the girl as a sky full of stars illuminates the ceiling.

"Of course he is." Stella answers just softly, running her fingers through Joanna's hair and down over her cheek. "Daddy's gonna stay with us, now. He came home on his own."

"I want him to stay." Joanna insists. "Stay and be my Daddy."

"He will." She promises. "He won't go anywhere." Stella smiles, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Joanna's forehead. She lingers there, giving a soft sigh before she pushes herself upwards. Steeling herself, she gives her daughter a teary-eyed smile, squeezing one tiny hand before she moves to stand up. "Get some sleep, baby girl. You can see Daddy more in the morning." She turns around after tucking Joanna in a little bit better, moving towards the doorway. She turns off the overhead light, reaching up to pull her braid down from where it was pinned for the mission.

"Is Daddy a bad man?"

Joanna's question catches her off guard, and Stella looks over her shoulder with an expression of clear bewilderment.

"A bad man?" She repeats after Joanna, furrowing her brows.

"He sounds like the-- Scary monsters." Joanna says, almost hesitantly. Her fingers curl into her blanket and she looks away, not meeting Stella's eyes in the way that Stella recognizes from the times Joanna was trying to pretend something on the TV hadn't been too much for her. "And he-- Daddy said I gotta be careful if I hold his hands or I'll get hurt."

"No, baby, no." Stella insists, very softly. "Daddy's not a bad man. Daddy's a good man, who got very lost." She looks forward again, down the hall to where her husband waits for her. "He's a very, very good man. Remember the stories I told you? Your Daddy's a hero." She closes her eyes. Her chest feels tight, her head still in a fog. "Go to sleep, Joanna."

She closes the door behind her, and she has to stand still and linger, steeling herself. A year. It's been over a year since she's seen him, seven decades since they've been together properly as husband and wife. She doesn't know what she wants to do as she moves mechanically towards the living room where Bucky waits. Some part of her says she wants to kiss him. Throw herself into his arms like no time at all has passed, and be with her husband again as she's always wanted to. Another part says slap him, yell at him for running away from her, for saving her life and then abandoning her. Another suggests she simply wants to weep, as heartbroken as she is. As she arrives to the living room, she takes in the sight of Bucky hunched over on the couch. He looks up as he approaches, his expression stoic and distant, but his eyes focused directly on her.

"Where were you?" Her words are harsher than she means them to be. "A year. A god damn year I searched for you, James Barnes, a god damned year of following empty leads and wild goose chases with nothing to hold up for it. Where have you been?"

"Stella." He stands up as she approaches. "I couldn't show myself t'you when I was like this. I couldn't--"

"Why not?" She hears herself sobbing. Feels tear tracks down her cheeks. It feels like it's happening to someone else, something far away and distant. Her head is swimming. "Why didn't you stay? I needed you, Joanna needed you--"

"That's why." He says it to cut her off, staring at her with those dark eyes of his. "Because of you. Because of her. I couldn't come to you as the Winter Soldier. You need the man I was, not the Soldier." The two of them stare eachother down, and Stella feels herself moving nearer to him almost mechanically. They stand closer now, and Stella sinks onto the couch with an expression of misery. Bucky quietly sits down beside her, looking to her with both his flesh and metal hands curled into fists.

"I found out about her through Hydra files." He explains, clearing his throat. "SHIELD, actually, but that don't matter." He looks down from Stella, to the carpet beneath their feet. "Your accounts of who her Daddy was. That she was... mine." He curls and uncurls his fingers, and Stella is struck with a need to hold his hand. She can't bring herself to, however, and she looks away from him, her fingers curling into her palms in her lap.

"I didn't remember all of who I was." He continues, not looking up to her. "But I remembered you. How important you were to me. That you are t'me. You're my... wife. I know what a father is supposed t'be, and I wasn't-- I wasn't ready t'see you, t'meet you." Now he does lift his eyes, the two of them meeting eachother's gaze for the first time in too long. Stella feels her eyes burn, and wipes away the tears. "I had to learn, Stells. For you, and for her." He looks down the hallway to Joanna's bedroom.

"She's a brave girl." He mumbles. "I came in through one of the windows and she didn't even scream when I went in the wrong door."

Stella utters a choked laugh.

"She takes after me in that regard. She'll talk to anyone. Made a lot of friends in daycare, I'm told." She smiles at Bucky, a teary eyed smile. He hesitates for just a moment, his mouth twitching once before he offers her an almost hesitant smile in return.

"I wanna... try to be better." He offers. "You're mad at me. I know you are. But I... I wanna know my daughter. I wanna know who my wife is. I wanna... I wanna come home, Stella."

Without a word, Stella reaches to take his hand.

"Then welcome home, Bucky." She murmurs, threading her fingers through his on his flesh hand. He feels warm and sturdy, strong in a way she knows her Bucky wasn't. Seeing him up closer now she can see dark circles under his eyes that suggest he hasn't slept in a long time. His clothes are dirty and ripped in a few places, and his smile is weak despite how genuine it is. "Welcome home." She repeats, reaching forward to draw him in closer to her. Steady arms wrap around her middle as his face pushes into her shoulder, and she puts her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes and holding onto him loosely.

She doesn't know what she feels. Relief, maybe. Fear, partially. Love, mostly. Bucky's returned. He's come back. Not at all in the way she'd ever expected, nor in a way she'd have preferred-- But he's here. He's here, and real, and breathing. She doesn't know how much he remembers. She doesn't know how much of her he recognizes, or if it's truly a good idea to be allowing the world's most notorious and deadly assassin anywhere near her daughter. But as his fingers curl into her uniform, she feels nothing but relief, the sensation of coming home after a long, long journey.

This is about when the bomb goes off.

\--------------------------------

"....la! Stella! Come on, Stells, you gotta wake up, please, Stella!"

Bucky's voice. Bucky's voice rings in her ears, distant and far away, underlined by a high-pitched whining. She struggles to open her eyes, feeling shards of glass under her body slicing through her uniform as she moves. A warmth at her side. Blood. She's bleeding. The Captain opens her eyes to see Bucky hovering over her, his expression somewhere between grim and panicked. Sturdy hands on her shoulders. There's a cut on his cheek.

"Stella." He says her name again. "Stella, come on." She can smell gunsmoke. There's a distant crackling of fire from somewhere else, the whistling of wind. Her mouth feels dry.

"Bucky..." She slurs her words, forcing herself to sit up. Shards of glass drop from her uniform as she does, the steady plinking sound of shattered glass against shattered glass. Bucky helps her up carefully, crouching by her side as she sits up. "What... What happened?" She blinks to clear her vision.

"Someone threw a bomb at the window." He mutters, his expression grim. "It went off-- You got the worst of it. Move careful, you were-- Bleeding pretty bad."

"I'm fine." She says it hoarsely. Her head is still swimming. She picks a shard of glass out of the back of her neck. "Is-- Is Joanna okay?" She looks back to Bucky, and his grim expression darkens further, his jaw tightening. He lowers his eyes, unable to look at her, and Stella feels panic gripping her far beyond anything had originally. "Is she okay?" She repeats, harsher this time.

"There was-- Someone came through when you went down." Bucky manages, clearly struggling. "Agents. They attacked me, they--"

"Where is my daughter?!" She barks it out now, forcing herself to her feet, unsteady as she is. No. No, this isn't allowed. They'd just been brought back together. Bucky was home, he was ready to recover, they'd just been ready to become a real family. This isn't supposed to happen. This isn't right. Bucky swallows thickly, looking at her with an expression that is both anger and apprehension.

"They took her." He says, hoarsely. "They took her and went out through the hole in the window."

"No--" Stella shoves him aside, eyes widening as she moves past the wreck that has been made of her living room and to the bedroom where Joanna sleeps. She can't be gone. She's fine, shell-shocked, wanting her mother back after that terrible nightmare. "No, no, no--" The door is ajar, hanging off the frame by a single hinge. There's bullet holes in the opposite wall, but no blood visible anywhere. "Joanna-"

The bed is empty. The room is a wreck, all the toys and gadgets strewn across the floor. The blanket is fallen to the floor. Stella trembles as she sinks to her knees, reaching for the little plastic white-scaled dinosaur that her daughter had become so fond of. "Joanna... No. No, god, no--" She feels her chest tighten, feels her sinuses burn, feels tears leaking from her eyes without any ounce of control. Clutched in the dinosaur's mouth is a single shred of paper, two words written in an elegant script that Stella doesn't recognize.

 ** _HAIL HYDRA_**.

She drops the toy, sucking in gasping breaths. Bucky lingers in the doorway behind her, rigid, his fingers digging into the wall enough to put holes in them. Stella struggles to breathe. She feels herself sobbing, feels herself clawing her own palms bloody. She gasps and sucks in air, curling in on herself and feeling the horrifying weight of it all settle in on her all at once as she lifts her hands to her head, digging her fingers into the skin of her scalp. She trembles. And she screams.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr is right here](http://magpirate.tumblr.com/). comments and kudos are always good motivators to continue.


End file.
